Got Your Back
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: It wasn't too bad being undead, Talion supposed. True, you had the whole rotting body, lack of some senses and the stink factor. But on the other hand, when you got to slaughter every orc you came across, it had its perks as well. Unfortunately, part of the deal included teaming up with a wraith of...dubious, character.


**Got Your Back**

"You. A talk. Right here. Right now."

"No. I won't. You talk. Monosyllabically."

Talion stared.

"You think because I'm a wraith I can't give dramatic effect? I mean, take that Witch-King guy? You ever hear his voice?"

"No."

"Eru Almighty, how'd I get stuck with _you_?"

Sighing, Talion sat down on the pile of orc bodies. He wasn't so sure himself.

It wasn't always this complicated, he reflected. True, guarding the Black Gate had its share of dangers, but it was simple enough – stand on the gate, shoot orcs, rinse and repeat until being rotated to greener pastures. Then came the Ringwraiths. And the orcs. And every other creature under the sun that actually hated the sun, and sent him to a place where, according to those Umbar bastards, the sun didn't shine. Doom of Men and all that.

"You listening to me?"

_Go away._

So now, here he was. Undead. Possessed by a wraith instead of seeing whether the doom was a doom or not, to see what lay beyond this world. He'd figured up to this point that he might as well roll with it. Something was stirring in Mordor, and he figured that while he was still active (if not alive), he might as well send every orc he could to whatever Morgoth-spawned hell awaited them.

"Talion, son of Taliand. Are you listening?"

Until now.

Talion got to his feet. The wraith kept looking at him. Still white, still looking like the stuff of nightmares, still half-ally, half-enemy.

"You left me," he said.

"What?"

"In battle. Against the orcs," he said, gesturing around the bodies. Probably stinking, but one of the disadvantages (or perks, he supposed) of being undead was that he no longer had a sense of smell. "I thought we agreed that you only leave my body when I say so."

"If you didn't notice, some of the brutes were sneaking up from behind. I just helped out."

"I could have taken them," Talion responded. And he meant it. "You heighten my senses. I need you outside me, I let you know. I want to enter the Wraith World, I let you know. Until then, you stay within me, let me kill orcs, and I let you…do whatever."

"How nice of you."

Nice. Talion sighed, rotten air escaping his rotting lungs. "Nice" didn't accomplish anything in this world. That was why he supposed the wraith was perhaps not the worst ally he could get. Why he fiddled with a dagger in his belt. Why he suddenly threw it in the wraith's direction, the blade nicking its incorporeal form.

"You missed."

Talion smirked. "Did I?"

The wraith turned around. Talion remained in place. The orc that had been rising to its feet fell down with the blade lodged in its right eye. Ironic really, he supposed, as the wraith was missing its left.

The wraith turned back to him and looked with its good eye. "I suppose you want me to thank you."

"No."

"Good. Because I've kept you alive up until now, so that doesn't make up for it."

"No, you made me undead. Not alive."

"But you don't want to die, do you?" the wraith asked. "Face it – you're having too much fun."

Talion went to retrieve his blade. He didn't answer, because, Valar damn it, the wraith was right. Maybe not so much as being "fun," but…fulfilling. He was stronger than he'd ever been. Faster. He'd served Gondor as a man. Now he could serve it as something more. Sheathing the blade, he turned back to the wraith.

"Fine," he said. "But my body, my rules. And rule number one is to stay in my body until I say otherwise."

"Duly noted," the wraith said. "But remember – Sauron burns. Mordor burns. That's the deal."

Talion didn't remember any such deal – it had been more a case of "you're mine now, but you surely won't protest my goals, will you?" But either way, he nodded. Either way, he let the wraith enter his body again. Either way, through whatever dark magic the creature possessed, he felt life…no, _power_…entering him again.

_Nice and warm in here, _said the wraith within his mind. _By the way, your left lung collapsed._

_How terrible._

_Indeed. Now get moving. If we're lucky we can find a troll to kill._

Sighing, Talion began moving.

Doom of Man. Maybe this was it.

But he had to admit, the gifts weren't too bad either.

* * *

_A/N_

_There was a piece of _Shadow of Mordor _concept art that caught my eye awhile back, and that was of Talion and the wraith fighting back to back against orcs. It caught my eye because on one hand, it looked cool. On the other, it made me wonder - isn't the premise that the wraith stays in Talion's body? All the abilities granted to him are based on that symbiosis, there was nothing I recall in gameplay trailers to suggest the wraith could leave his body for combat purposes. Still, rule of cool. And since the entire premise of the game seems to be based on said rule, got me to type this up._

_Update (10/04/15): Something I feel I need to reiterate as per certain reviews is that this was written long before the game was released (check the upload date), and as such, all I had to go on was concept art (hence why Celembrimbor is never named), which included a rotting Talion._


End file.
